Sensei
by Ego And Psyche
Summary: So why did Miyagi try to kiss Hiroki that night at M University?


Sensei

My take on why Miyagi tried to kiss Hiroki that night at the university.

**A/N: This was inspired by a line from Hypercritical-Q's 'The Seme in Semeku', where Miyagi says that Hiroki reminds him of 'someone'.**

We only formally met after he'd been appointed; I was familiar with his reputation for hard work and knew that he had brains, so I hadn't thought twice about choosing him for the job. Hell, I was sure I'd be able to get along with anybody at that point…I watched myself grow more exaggeratedly jokey by the day, filling the cracks in my failing marriage with a smile that I flashed at everyone but my wife.

He came into my office with his head respectfully bowed, though his manner of walking was anything but.

'Miyagi Kyoujuu', he said softly, face rising. The brown bangs fell back against his forehead to reveal a penetrating pair of russet eyes. 'I am honoured to be working with you.'

_This is one proud guy, but he's determined to be humble with me._ I somehow liked that—there didn't seem to be an ass-kissing bone in his body, but it was evident from his gaze that he respected me deeply. There was something else beneath the respect too…mixed right in with his fierce pride, I could see an equally fiercely hidden pain. Not that I bothered about his personal issues…what mattered right now was that respect, that freakin' respect, and I had enough of my own pain in any case.

But what with things being so distant at home, I found myself unable to work with respect, and one week into his appointment…

'Ka-mi-jo-u Se-n-se-i!'

He looked up wearily. It was almost amusing to see the irritation trying to break through in the stubbornly humble gaze that he still tried to give me. 'Yes, Miyagi?' he asked, forgetting to add 'Kyoujuu' for the first time. I must have really rubbed him the wrong way for…

'Yes, Miyagi?'

The exact same words, with the exact same intonation…hadn't I heard them before, from the lips of another person whom I'd also addressed as 'Sensei'?

And I'd be damned if it wasn't the same expression, too. Kamijou's face began to register some concern as I simply turned away. 'Kyoujuu, is something the matter?'

'No', I said shortly. I suddenly couldn't bear to look at him.

There were other things too, I realized over the weeks, if only one bothered to look carefully. Kamijou was unsettlingly like Sensei in more ways than I cared to know, and the more I noticed, the more…physical…I got with him. I couldn't stop myself. The automatic furrow that would settle between his eyebrows while reading. The way his voice got deeper when he got embarrassed. Even his hair…it fell into his eyes the same way. If I didn't make a habit of throwing my arms around his hunched figure every morning, I'd have jumped his bones one day simply to release the tension.

And it wasn't even as if I felt anything for Kamijou himself. I wasn't even gay, hell. It was horribly unfair to the man, and yet…and yet I couldn't stop the lilting 'Kamiiijooouuu' that ripped itself from my throat every day.

Risako and I divorced. And though I tried to hate myself for it, it hardly made a difference me…or to my thoughts, which were persistently clinging to one woman and the man who resembled her so much.

Then one day, he came to work looking worse than usual. I'd seen the sadness in his eyes more than once after that first time, but never had it been as pronounced as this. When I glomped him with my daily dose of fooling around—'Kyoujuu, if you don't back off I'll sue you for sexual harassment.'

'Kamijou', I said cautiously, realizing his mood was may more off than usual but still testing my luck. 'You're way too uptight about everything. You need to relax a little.'

'And I think you're too unconcerned', he said, not looking at me. His tone turned scalding as he added, 'that's why your wife found another man and left you.'

My insides twisted momentarily and he must have noticed the gloom on my face, because he resumed working, posture stiff. I blew it off as yet another joke—what else was I good for these days, anyway?—and did my best to steer the conversation away, but—

'So Kamijou, do you have a girlfriend?'

'I don't have one', he said suddenly, getting to his feet, expression stony. 'Now if you'll excuse me. I have a class to teach.'

_Eh?_

Frowning, I muttered to myself, 'So he doesn't have a girlfriend…?' Kamijou was good-looking in a strangely 'cute' sort of way; off the top of my head I could name several people who would be willing to go out with him. But the uptight manner in which he answered my question…I seemed to have touched a nerve.

Sighing dismissively, I gazed around the heartbreakingly messy room and my eye caught a crumpled bit of paper lying near Kamijou's chair. Had it been anywhere else I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but for someone as obsessively organized as Kamijou…praying I wouldn't find anything too embarrassingly personal for my subordinate to handle, I smoothed it out.

'_I'm going out_

_ -Nowaki'_

Going out…'where?' I asked myself. And who or what was 'Nowaki' for Kamijou to keep this note? Though crumpled, it had somehow migrated to his workplace…he was angry, then, but couldn't let go of it either.

I shrugged to myself and tried to forget; I had my own little problem to deal with, and a distraught Kamijou was no better for my memories than a normally grumpy one. 'Kamijou the Devil' was turning out to be exactly like Sensei even in the classroom, though I had never been pelted with anything, even before I fell for her. And after I did…

'_Miyagi…thank you for loving me.'_

Briefly, I wondered who 'Nowaki' was, and what Kamijou was up to.

Things only got worse as the week progressed; so much so, that my clingy annoyingness turned into genuine concern for the man. 'Kamijou, is there anything bothering you?'

The question stumbled from my mouth of its own accord. I hadn't planned on asking, really. But as he looked up from the paper he was typing with one hand (clutching a bunch of scrolls in the other), for a brief moment I really did see something there.

'No…not really.' He turned away.

I stepped forward, determined to sort this out, as his superior if nothing else. 'Are you sure?' I asked evenly, daring him to say otherwise. 'The grammar in your paper is all off, you know.'

He yelped and leapt forward, clutching his laptop to his chest to stop me from reading further. As he grew more and more frenzied, I had an idea. 'Oh, I know!' I said chirpily, reaching out and turning his face around. 'That's why you always look so grumpy.' Holding his chin in one hand and using the forefinger of the other, I placed it between his eyebrows. 'Wrinkles', I said solemnly. Unbeknownst to him, I was focusing every bit of my attention on said wrinkles so I wouldn't do what my body was screaming to do.

My body was screaming to hold him to my chest and keep him there for as long as it took.

'Erm', he said irately. 'What?'

'Don't keep frowning like that, or else those furrows will turn into real wrinkles one day.' A wicked thought occurred to me; this would at least cheer me up, if not him. 'Amiability is important for men too, you know. Try it! Direct your eyes upwards with an innocent expression on your face…' I demonstrated… 'And then act all cute while saying "How may I help you, Sensei?" '

I gulped inwardly at my utterance of the meaningful honorific, but he was emitting mushroom clouds at this point so I backed off. 'Excuse me', he said, and his voice was like nothing I'd heard before; it was utterly crushed. He'd deflated before my eyes. 'I'll be going to the bathroom.'

'But seriously', I said, trying my best to keep my voice offhand so as not to embarrass him further, 'I'll be here to listen if you have anything to get off your chest.' At that moment, I meant it too. I wasn't sure whether it was just because he resembled Sensei or because he was a dedicated subordinate, but I felt an unreasoning, pitying affection for him welling in my chest. 'You tend to keep everything inside, but it's not really healthy.'

'I'll be fine', he said flatly, moving to the door. 'I'm not a child.'

I looked at him sharply. _I don't think you're a kid, Kamijou. In fact, with the kind of problems you seem to be having, I'd say you're anything but._ 'Stupid…I'm worried about you.'

For one second, only one, I saw genuine gratitude in his eyes. Then it was gone, and the door closed behind him.

I left our office too, partly to escape the negative atmosphere that Kamijou had inadvertently left behind, and partly because I was all out of papers. It took a while to find fresh papers, but my trip to the stationery was further prolonged by a student who seemed to have followed me for quite a way.

'Miss Chikayoshi?' It was one of my less diligent students, but I was somewhat concerned to see her looking significantly out of breath. She'd evidently run to catch up to me. 'Is this about yesterday's lesson? I happen to be free now, so—'

'No, Sensei, it's…Kamijou-sensei…'

'What about him?' My voice was sharper than I'd intended. Had he passed out in the bathroom? Tried to kill himself? He'd been looking so utterly woebegone, I couldn't put much past him.

'Well, I think he's being harassed…there's a man who's chasing him around asking to talk…he's locked himself inside the literature department, but—'

'Thank you', I said briefly, turning around without waiting for her to finish. I practically ran back—or imitated a running man as closely as possible with six reams of paper in my arms. I arrived at the scene just in time to hear the tall, dark-haired man shout, 'Hiro-san!'

'What's all this yelling for?' I asked abruptly. The man peeled himself off the door, which he'd been leaning against, and turned to face me. 'Did something happen?' I tried to keep my voice level, but I couldn't help noting how tall he was, even though his eyes were gentle.

The man—was he a man? If so, he was really young—seemed to shake himself out of a daze. 'No…nothing, I'm sorry if I disturbed you.'

'Are you a student here?' I asked, wondering where the feeling of recognition in my chest was coming from. I was sure I hadn't met him anywhere before.

'No', he said shortly. 'Now if you'll excuse me.'

He walked past without meeting my eyes again, and as I got Kamijou to open the door, I made a sudden decision not to ask what the _hell_ that had been. Even though Kamijou obviously knew. Because his expression wasn't the kind that made me want to look any closer.

'Oh, I was so lonely, my sweet honey!' I began, grinning as genuinely as I could while looking at his utterly miserable face. Then, dropping the act, 'Hey, you look terrible. I told you to stop wrinkling your eyebrows…and here I spent all this effort to—'

My sentence died in my throat as I caught the tall man's eye. Before the door swung shut, I had very clearly seen his dumbstruck face.

But all that was earlier today…so what am I doing, thinking about it now?

I'm done with my work, every single bit. I've actually tidied up this office from hell, and am preparing my notes in advance for next week's lectures. All this from the lazy-as-shit Miyagi Kyoujuu who can't do a single thing on his own, according to Kamijou, anyway.

Kamijou…damn, he's the reason I'm here in the first place. He's just the kind of person who would try to drown themselves in work, and if he tries today…or rather, tonight…I am not letting him out of this room until he speaks up.

He was a mess all day after that. I didn't tell him that the tall man-boy—so his name was Nowaki?—had called, or he'd probably have felt worse. He left as early as he could after his last class got over, but I saw it. Tears gathering in his eyes.

Sensei's tears.

I can't keep thinking about it, I decide, listening to the rain at the windows. It's just plain wrong—yes, they both teach literature, they act the same and walk the same and teach the same and bloody even look the same, but it's wrong, because Kamijou is…

I don't know what he is, hell. But he isn't my Sensei and that's for sure.

So what do I do with Kamijou…?

Sighing, I look at the clock. It's a quarter to ten. _That's it. He isn't showing up. Good for him, maybe he found something better to do…unlike me._ Because my own sadness is what drove me to work like this anyway, isn't it?

But there's a surprise waiting for me at the door. A yell escapes me as I take in a shivering, drenched, and utterly lost Kamijou.

'Kyoujuu?' Yep, lost as shit. Something's happened to him all right, and I don't need his soaked clothes as proof. 'What're you doing here?'

'Never mind that…what happened to you? You look awful.' I blindly look around the office, trying to find a towel. 'Hold on—here you go. So this is what you'd called a "drowned rat", huh?' Looks like my mouth still can't stop with the jokes, I note wryly, trying to towel his hair dry. 'I bet your underwear is soaked too', I chuckle half-heartedly.

'It's all right.' Kamijou's voice is dead like nothing I've heard before. He sounds like he's on the verge of total collapse, and I fight to keep my memories where they should be—buried.

'What's wrong?' His pride might not be able to handle the concern that's bleeding into my voice, but I honestly don't care. 'Were you dumped?' It isn't a joke.

'Huh?' he sounds inexpressibly raw now. 'What are you saying? Please don't tease me so much, I…'

_Plink._

Uh-oh.

Slowly, he raises the towel, and I have just enough time to take in his tear-stained face before he quickly lowers it again and turns away. 'Ah—I'm sorry', he mutters thickly, and then, much lower, 'damn, what am I doing? It's nothing, really, I just…'

Better judgment be damned, pride be damned, memories be thrice-damned. I step forward and do the only thing I can do—I throw my arms around his trembling body. 'Kamijou…' I begin softly, not really knowing what to say. 'You…you try to put up an impenetrable defense around you', I say blindly, 'but you're unaware that it's actually full of holes.' Yeah, that sounded about right. Is it a reason? I can't say for sure, but all I know is that I'm not letting Kamijou go any time soon.

'Um…' even under all those tears, I can still hear that—that—'please let go of me…'

Kamijou is just so adorable…and hurt.

'No.'

_Sensei…I'm sorry._

I look into his red-rimmed eyes, wide with fright and shock. He's too numb to even resist. That isn't right. _Snap out of it, Kamijou. Wake up already and stop me before I—_

'STOP!'

I almost welcome the punch that sends me crashing against the wall.

It's quite a while before my neck stops feeling like it's going to fall, but my mind seems to be taking even longer to recover from the shock.

_Was I actually going to kiss Kamijou back there?_

No doubt about it, if that kid hadn't punched my lights out I'd probably have done something regrettable. I decide to take my still-throbbing neck as a mixed blessing and cautiously open the office door. Their voices died down long ago, but I want to see what's happening…just in case.

The watery footprints aren't easy to miss, though an involuntary groan rises from my chest as I realize that I'll probably be the one doing the cleaning. _Kamijou, if this goes well for you I am so going to lord this over your head._

They go all the way to the library. I'm just on the verge of cursing out loud at the thought of mopping all this up when I hear something far more disturbing from between the countless shelves.

Urgent sounds of kissing—damn, do people really make out like that?—and an unmistakable moan.

Which is unmistakably Kamijou's.

I sigh and make my way back to the office for a mop and bucket.

The next day he's all good. I think he somehow understands every bit as much as I do that we need to forget what might have happened.

_Why the hell would I even…_

It's not like I'm gay. I am most certainly not gay. More than anything, though, as I mutter the same words over and over, it sounds like I'm only trying to convince myself. In any case…I don't feel anything for Kamijou. I am not gay.

My phone rings, providing a welcome distraction from my rather circular train of thought.

The person on the other end is someone whose voice I haven't heard in three years now. 'Shinobu?'


End file.
